Purple Line
by Writer's-411
Summary: Shiro, known as Zangetsu in the underworld, works as a freelance hitman. He's used to being alone and likes it that way. However, Ichigo, his neighbor, and his dog just can't seem to leave him alone. Death has more than a shadow now. Shiro x Ichigo


**Purple Line**

 **Warning: Violence and Swearing**

Shiro stirred from his sleep on his blue couch. The sound of his neighbor's little dog barking rang around in his apartment and in his head. He groaned as he picked up his phone and checked the time. "Fuck!" he complained. He sat up and stretched, then he burped. The dog was barking louder this time.

The curtains were closed, covering the neat living room and open concept kitchen in complete shadow. The TV was muted; Shiro figured he accidently hit mute instead of power again the night before. An aged pizza sat on his coffee table, and it was sitting next to an empty bottle of water. Looking at his reflection, Shiro noticed that his white hair was splayed in different directions, his shirt was ruffled around his torso, and his dark eyes were shadowed; his skin was pale as it normally was. He adjusted his shirt and smoothed his hair out.

Standing up, Shiro took a moment to look over his apartment from his spot. The kitchen was clear, the dining room was bare, and the path to his empty room was clean. No pictures, nothing. With a small sigh, he walked to his bathroom, and as he did so, he checked his email. He grimaced at the onslaught of dark messages from crime lords and politicians. He deleted all of the invitations to parties, meetings, and partnerships, all violations of his rules.

Shiro looked in the mirror. He touched at the skin around his eyes. His phone rang.

Quickly, Shiro looked at the screen and spotted the email notification. The subject line read: Kaien Shiba—100000000. It was time to go. Shiro relieved himself and washed up. He walked into his empty room and opened the closet. He pulled out a tablet and returned to his couch, where he set up the tablet and attached the keyboard.

Typing in the target's name, Shiro took in the images of Kaien Shiba's smiling face. The black-haired man was a popular politician who was looking to win a seat as a representative. Another article recounting Shiba's life revealed that the politician was married, expecting a child, and from a prominent family that lived two hours away from Karakura. Looking at all of the photos, Shiro could see that the paparazzi were following the man everywhere. They'd be a pest.

After he picked up his phone, Shiro replied to the email. _Raise the pay._ Within the minute, an email came back, confirming a higher pay. Smiling at the new number, Shiro decided to get to work. Suddenly, a notification from his banking app went off; there had been a deposit of half of his fee. Shiro grunted with a bigger smile. He rose and went back to the closet, where he pulled out his sweatshirt, sweatpants, shoes, gloves, and his katana. He piled his clothes on his coffee table and unsheathed his sword. He checked the purple edge for imperfections. He eyed the tip, which had been altered to allow for excellent piercing purposes in narrow kill areas.

All was well.

Just as he sheathed his sword, Shiro heard the neighbor's dog barking again. "Little shit," he cursed under his breath. He dressed himself and carried his katana in hand as he walked out the door of his apartment.

"Shiro," came his neighbor's voice. He cringed.

"Ichigo," replied Shiro as he turned. "Morning." He locked his door. His neighbor was the same height as him, 5'11". The difference between them lie in Ichigo's bright orange hair, tanned skin, and ripped body type. Today, Ichigo was wearing a sweatshirt, shorts, and gym shoes; Shiro was aware that Ichigo had just come home from his martial arts class. When Ichigo wasn't at his class, he was home, at school, or at work in a coffee shop down the street, a typical guy.

"You don't go to your classes very often," commented Ichigo. He leaned against his door. "You realize it's 1 in the afternoon, don't you? You're really late."

Shiro's jaw tightened as he stared Ichigo in his big brown eyes. He didn't trust Ichigo, not with those eyes. He kept seeing himself in them in such clear reflection. "Teacher doesn't mind," replied Shiro. "Your dog was barking again."

"He's a dog," said Ichigo with a smile. "Dogs bark."

Grunting and wiping at his nose, Shiro replied, "Yeah, they do… See you." He turned from Ichigo and walked away. A shiver ran up his spine at the end of the hallway. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Ichigo still standing there and staring at him with those dishonest eyes. Shiro kept moving. There weren't any elevators near his apartment, so he took the stairs. As he descended, Shiro mentally noted that he had to move apartments within two days. He oddly felt like Ichigo's roommate at this point, something that was bad for business. When he arrived at the last floor, the parking lot, he approached his car. The car was a plain silver color with tinted windows.

After starting his vehicle, Shiro took a look at the rearview mirror. He noticed a new car in the parking lot. _Last I checked_ , he thought, _there weren't any vacancies._ Shiro pursed his lips. He was going to move elsewhere that night.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

Having spotted Kaien at his estate, Shiro watched him go to work, go to lunch with his wife, and take a moment to stop in the park to gesture toward the bright sky and the lively greenery. While at the park, Kaien sat on a bench and had two bodyguards near him, both looking about. Shiro bit at his thumb as he surveyed the park's layout, paying attention to the trees, pavement, people, etc. For a moment, he glanced at the clear street and the quiet neighborhood. Only one store stood out.

He envisioned himself approaching the candidate and the possible scenarios that would follow, all including the unavoidable result of killing all three men. "Too messy," Shiro said under his breath. "Draw attention." He glanced at the passing civilians, all occupied on their phones or speaking to other walkers. At that moment, he recalled a conversation he had with his previous mentor: his mentor had told him to use a gun with a silencer, but Shiro had told him death used a scythe, not a gun. He chuckled.

His phone went off. Shiro checked the notification, seeing that buyer was asking if the job was done. "Prick," Shiro commented. "Only been a few hours." Another notification appeared on his phone: a text from Ichigo, whom he had under _Yapping Dog Person_. Shiro thought he'd have to block the number soon before he moved. "I should've fixed the damn microwave myself."

 _Hey,_ text Ichigo, _I'm going to the store. Did you need anything? I can leave it in front of your door._

Rolling his eyes, Shiro shut off his phone. He remembered all of the times he'd come home to gifts and necessities that Ichigo had left at his front door with a note expressing he'd bought what Shiro had needed. Candy, toilet paper, wine, etc. were common goods that Shiro had found before, all in a grocery bag and once in a gift basket. He had given Ichigo money and even some dog toys in return, trying to appear like a neighborly person.

"So fucking annoying..."

Shiro looked back up toward Kaien when a sudden rush of people came upon him. Kaien initially didn't look pleased, but he gave a smile. Shiro, on the other hand, grimaced, his jaw tightening. "Problematic." He eased at the sight of the bodyguards pushing back the people while Kaien walked toward his vehicle, waving and saying something to the people. Shiro saw the large truck that one bodyguard chauffeured the candidate in.

With a quick swipe of his sword, Shiro exited his car and walked down the street from his parking spot. He put his hood up over his head and kept his head down as he walked briskly toward the truck's general direction. He took out his phone, tapping the screen and pretending to be occupied by an app. Noticing that an individual was walking his way, Shiro quickly held his sword close to him, allowing the weapon to blend in with his sweat suit as he passed the walker.

Glancing at the crowd of people and the bodyguards, Shiro noticed that they were getting closer and closer to the politician. Taking long strides, he managed to get close to the vehicle, where Kaien had his hand on the door already. Shiro pursed his lips. Kaien sat in the back seat.

Sneering, Shiro put his back to another parked vehicle, the warm metal radiating through his sweatshirt. He was in front of the store, which he quickly observed to be occupied with customers and very busy staff. Apparently, some manga had hit a sore spot for some readers. Shiro rolled his eyes and took a deep breath. Taking another look at the crowd and bodyguards, he figured he had, at most, a twenty second window to get his target. Shiro rubbed at his face and put on a smile. He pulled down the hood and put the sword slightly behind him as he rounded the parked car and walked toward Kaien's truck.

Upon arrival, Shiro knocked on the window. He waved when Kaien noticed him. Sliding over, Kaien lowered the window just an inch. "Can I help you, sir?"

"No," answered Shiro. "I'm just excited to see the face of the future."

"Well," replied Kaien, "I can only hope that I'll make it to represent the good people, like you." He squinted and moved closer to the car door window.

"I have no doubts about you," assured Shiro.

"Your eyes," said Kaien, who lowered the window a little more, "they're quite unique."

"That's what most say," replied Shiro. He unsheathed his weapon. "I'm not looking to be a charmer." Within that second, he thrust his sword through the car window, his sword piercing Kaien's head in one clean shot, the purple edge sparkling in the sunlight. Kaien's eyes were lidded, the life that illuminated his eyes gone. Blood beaded at the meeting of steel and skin. A drop trailed down the man's face; Shiro clicked his tongue. He did his job.

Just as quick as he thrust his sword, Shiro withdrew it, flicked off the blood, and sheathed it, turning around and drawing up his hood. A faint thud sounded out from behind him, Kaien's body dropping in the car. He walked away, keeping an eye on the store and observing that all were still occupied.

 _Sheep_ , he thought.

Shiro didn't immediately go to his car; he rounded the block and returned to his vehicle, where he could see the bodyguards panicking and the crowd screaming in to the air or at their phones. A woman was running away from the scene with her child, covering the child's eyes. For a moment, Shiro remembered the moment his father had hit the ground, his head separated from his shoulders, and he remembered the purple line, the bloodied katana, that had shined over his father's body. His mother had run with him away from the house, screaming for help. He rubbed at his head. After he drove off, Shiro sent a confirmation email to the buyer. As a response, Shiro received another notification from his bank, showing he received the rest of his payment. With a grunt, Shiro tucked his phone away and drove onward.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

Before he arrived at his apartment, Shiro briefly parked outside a motel to wipe off his sword. He glanced up at the motel and figured he should call for a room to stay in until he could move to another part of the country. Catching sight of himself in the rearview mirror, Shiro saw his bright skin speckled across his cheeks, a poor blend with his freckles. He wiped at the blood, smearing it across his face.

"Shit."

He drove home. The foreign car was still there, but it wasn't alone, another new car parked next to it. Once at the door of his apartment, Shiro noticed that the lock of his door had an irregularly large hole in it. There were shavings splayed around the lock, which had scratches. The door handle was damaged, and the door frame was splintered by the deadbolt.

Shiro sneered.

He turned away and walked back down the hall, seeing the vague image of his father's body on the floor, his apartment floor. He shook his head and groaned. As he arrived at the stairs, he pulled out his phone and cleared his tablet with the click of a button. With no ID, cards, or any trace of personal information left in the apartment, Shiro looked forward to moving on.

Instead of moving on toward his car at the bottom floor, he walked out of the building with his sword in plain view. He was going to give the intruders some time to reveal themselves.

 _Who the hell would be dumb enough to come for me?_ thought Shiro. His brow was furrowed as he walked down the street, his head tilted enough to conceal him from the entirety of the city.

"Shiro!" came Ichigo's voice.

"Fuck!"

"Hey," said Ichigo, who was wearing his regular jeans and shirt. He approached Shiro with his dog following. There were a couple of bags in his hand. "Hey-whoa. You got some…" He tapped at his cheek, but Shiro only frowned. Ichigo cleared his throat. "Have you eaten yet? Kon and I are going to head over to the pizza joint. They serve pizza to dogs there and have books on reserve for customers to read while they wait."

Quickly looking at his neighbor, Shiro questioned why Ichigo was still holding the bags. It'd been a couple hours since Ichigo's plan to shop. "Can't," replied Shiro, concluding that Ichigo's whereabouts weren't important. "See you." He turned to leave.

"Wait!" interrupted Ichigo. He stepped in front of Shiro. Kon barked and stood on its hind legs, emphasizing the wall that Ichigo's wide shoulders appeared to be. "Are you okay?"

At that, Shiro froze. His heart jumped and beat with high speed. His fingers twitched around his sword, his pointer finger tapping at the sheath. When another person passed by, Shiro took a moment to look about, noticing that he was no longer cloaked by his hood. "I haven't eaten," he finally said.

Ichigo smiled. At this orange haired man's white teeth, Shiro shuttered. Kon barked again. "Well, come with us," suggested Ichigo. He jerked his head across the street. "It's this way."

Glancing at the restaurant across the street, Shiro observed the second-floor dining room. The lights drew attention to the first floor, where the red and yellow colored theme manifested in a painted pizza on the window. "Alright," he said and followed after Ichigo. Once inside, they both ordered slices of pizza, with one for Kon. Shiro wiped at his face with a napkin he dipped in a water cup.

"Let's sit by the back," suggested Ichigo.

Shiro shook his head. "Upstairs." He walked on and Ichigo, who picked up Kon, followed. When he arrived upstairs, Shiro quickly observed the room, seeing that it was a just a collection of red tables and yellow chairs. He sat in the far corner by the window; the booth allowed him to view the street and the entrances in the front and side of his apartment building.

"This is a pretty good spot," commented Ichigo as he slid in the booth. He sat Kon down next to him, and Kon laid his head on the table, looking from Shiro to Ichigo. The bags were placed on Ichigo's other side. "Do you like to people watch?"

"Something like that," replied Shiro. He glanced at Kon. "How long have you been outside the apartment?"

"Well, if that's your way of asking what I did today," answered Ichigo with a smile, "I left the apartment after I showered. Kon and I were sitting around the park all day and we went to a dog friendly store. Then, we bumped in to you." He rummaged through a bag and handed Shiro a bar of chocolate. "You like caramel flavor, right?"

Feeling his heart jump again, Shiro looked in to Ichigo's eyes. _How do you know that?_ Shiro took the candy bar.

"Thanks," said Shiro. "Caramel is my favorite."

"I figured," said Ichigo, "I don't think I've ever seen you with any other candy bar."

 _I don't eat chocolate idly in public._

"In this city," continued Ichigo, "I don't have many friends, not even at school." He looked down at his hands, which Shiro noticed were scarred from multiple lacerations. "People seem to shy away from me a lot and most find me too scary. I don't know why." He petted Kon, who licked Ichigo's hand and gave a low whine. "Kon keeps me company."

Shiro placed the candy bar in his pocket. He looked over Ichigo's saddened face, a solid look of social defeat accompanied by a bead of sweat. A faint tapping to the tile floor filled Shiro's ears. He hummed to himself and sat back against his booth. "Don't sweat people," he advised. "Work is work." He eyed the other's face.

Ichigo raised his head. A tear slid down his cheek from his reddened eyes.

 _Too far_ , thought Shiro as he watched the tear drop to the table. He crossed his arms. Shiro had conducted a background check on Ichigo when the other took an interest in him. Ichigo's social media had matched his life, few posts and fewer conversations. Shiro's head started to thud.

"Two pepperoni pizzas and a cheese for the pooch," came the waiter's voice.

"Yeah," said Ichigo as he wiped at his eyes. "That's us."

"Did you guys hear that Kaien Shiba was just murdered?" asked the waiter, giving a small frown. He awkwardly set down the pizza slices as he tried not to tilt the serving platter. His nametag read _Hanatarou_. Hanatarou moved a piece of dark hair from his face. "It's all over the news."

"I actually didn't know that," replied Ichigo. He quickly looked at his smartphone while Kon set to eating his slice of pizza. "Wow. That's surprising!" His reddened eyes and faint shock didn't mix well, in Shiro's opinion. The image of his mother's funeral came to mind; it had rained that day. He rubbed at his head, clawing at the locks of his hair.

Shiro didn't need to look out the window anymore.

 **IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII**

After exiting the restaurant, Shiro decided to make himself scarce from the city immediately. He thought about moving outside of the country and taking his business to a new set of clienteles. The money wasn't an issue.

"Are you heading up?" asked Ichigo. "It's movie night for Kon and me. We're watching _All Dogs go to Heaven_. It's his favorite."

"I'm actually going to take a walk," replied Shiro.

 _It's you or me_ , thought Shiro. _I'd rather it be you._

"Ah," said Ichigo. "That's too bad."

Rolling his eyes, Shiro offered, "You can walk with me."

Ichigo tilted his head a bit as if he were studying Shiro back. The sudden scowl had Shiro's hairs standing on edge. From his knowledge, Ichigo never made that face before. "Sure," answered Ichigo with a smile. "I can walk with you. Maybe you're warming up to me."

Giving a brief smile, Shiro walked on. Ichigo followed. Looking about, the city was alive with lights, brightening the streets from the oncoming dark of the night. More people were out now, most dressed up for clubs and dining. Despite the flock of people flooding the sidewalks, the mask of all the other faces brought Shiro to relax as he walked, never mind the many glances he received from walkers.

"You're so quiet," commented Ichigo. A pause followed, but Shiro didn't respond. "For as long as I lived across from you, you don't make any weird noises, you don't party or drink. What kind of student doesn't do any of those things?"

"Don't care," Shiro answered bluntly. He turned toward a darker street.

"Well," said Ichigo, "how do you cope with so much school work and sword tournaments?" Another pause.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Shiro made his way into an alley. The dark was thick, hiding the dumpsters, backdoors, and fire escapes. "You talk too much," commented Shiro as he wiped his face, his hand combing his hair and gripping the short strands.

"What are we doing here?" asked Ichigo as he looked around.

Stopping in his trek, Shiro turned to face Ichigo. "Even though it's dark," observed Shiro, "I can still see that look on your face." There, Ichigo's scowl was at its heaviest. His brow was furrowed deeply, and his mouth wasn't smiling like it was in the crowd. Kon was sitting by a far dumpster with the bags in its mouth.

"So _Zangetsu_ realizes he has a shadow," stated Ichigo, "finally."

"You break in to my apartment, knowing I'm not there," said Shiro. "You were breaking at the restaurant. I'd say you're a little too sloppy to be my shadow."

"Tough talk coming from someone who finally put all of the pieces together."

A chuckle escaped Shiro's lips. "You think I wasn't on to you since day one?" asked Shiro. "I didn't trust you the moment you looked at me. Your eyes gave you away, a nature that I knew way too well."

"Why stay here if you suspected me?" inquired Ichigo. He slid his hands into his pockets.

"I wanted to see how long it'd be until I got to kill you," answered Shiro. His fingers thrummed on the hilt of his sword. His lips widened into a grin when Ichigo's lip twitched. "Why wait to kill me?"

"Buyer couldn't match my price."

"How many?"

"How many what?"

"How many buyers wanted me dead?"

"Just one," answered Ichigo. "You killed a special guy a year back, and she hasn't forgiven you."

"She finally has the money," Shiro inquired.

"No," replied Ichigo. "The price for you was too high, even for a rich girl like her. The hit was lifted, and some amateurs were sent in for both of us."

Pursing his lips and frowning, Shiro asked, "How did they know where to go? I move too frequently, and I'm assuming you're not easy to trace."

"Hackers aren't all easy to evade," answered Ichigo, "not forever. They found my bullshit Twitcher account and traced it back to my cell, which I just ditched today for a newer model."

"Shit."

"Not to worry," said Ichigo. "I've already taken care of those two imbeciles. They were so careless in their work that I almost felt bad having to kill them both." He moved to take a step forward.

With one step back and a draw of his sword, Shiro positioned himself.

Ichigo put his hands up. "No money, no kill," he said. "I'm not a psychopath." He glanced over at Kon and waved at the dog. Looking back at Shiro, who didn't move, Ichigo sighed. "Look, I'm kind of pissed off, and trying to befriend you was a shit tactic."

Sheathing his sword, Shiro stated, "You're a different kind, aren't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You hunt the hunters."

"What can I say," answered Ichigo. "I've been training to hunt you for so long, and this…is disappointing."

Clutching the hilt of his sword, Shiro held his ground. "Make no mistake," replied Shiro. "I don't worry about those who come for me. You're not the first, and you're far from the last. Besides, none of the assassins ever lived to report back to their buyer. You wouldn't have been the exception, seeing as you do everything with your bare hands."

"These hands have killed dozens of men."

"And mine a hundred times over."

"You think you can last in a fist fight with me?" challenged Ichigo.

"I charge extra to use my bare hands," commented Shiro with a big grin.

Putting up his fists and setting himself up for a fight, Ichigo said, "Then, let's do this. Show me that extra."

The grin didn't fade as Shiro set himself up, placing his sword down and positioning himself. "Come on," he taunted. After his first step forward, Shiro's entire being lifted.

Exhilaration.

After delivering a kick, Shiro immediately went to work on Ichigo's abdomen. Grunts spewed from Ichigo's mouth as he tried to defend himself and regain his footing. Shiro blocked all blows from Ichigo, the power behind the fists and the kicks made Shiro's jaw tighten. Launching from his position, Shiro landed his fists and elbow in to Ichigo's gut and jaw. After exchanging a few more blows, both men were gasping for breath, but Shiro didn't budge. He tackled Ichigo and pinned him down.

"You're not too bad," commented Shiro as he knelt above Ichigo, his hands holding down Ichigo's arms. His stretched lips, the shape of the grim reaper's scythe, were mirrored in the dark irises of Ichigo's eyes. Death stared at death.

Kon barked, drawing the men's attention. Chuckling, Shiro got to his feet and lent a hand to Ichigo, who looked at the hand for a moment before taking it and rising. After he picked up his sword, Shiro said, "I'm off." He turned and started walking down the alleyway.

"Where are you going?" Ichigo called after him. He held on to his abdomen as he watched Shiro's back.

"Where no one will think to look at death in the eye."

 **IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII**

Yawning, Shiro sunk in to his bus seat, the blue and purple fabric rubbing uncomfortably against his sweats. The remaining dried blood that had stained his cheeks had been wiped away with a damp towel in the bus station bathroom. His hood was pulled down over his eyes, and his hands were tucked in his sweater pocket. His sword was stashed in a bag with clothes from a nearby thrift store. The dull lights were turned on as passengers filed in the bus from the station. Kids ran down the aisle, and a parent ran after them, yelling for them to stop running. Only a few passengers; Shiro had made sure.

"Hey, mister!" came a kid's voice. Shiro didn't stir. "Mister!"

Peeping from under his hood, Shiro rolled his eyes. "What?"

The child was chubby with cheesy puff dust under his bottom lip, and his dark hair was spread out in different directions. Despite the disarray of his appearance, the child's grey eyes, from what Shiro could see, were clear and free of error. For a moment, he felt a weight lift from his chest as the child looked at him without fear or intense question. Shiro looked away from those eyes, trying to concentrate on the thrumming of his fingers against his thigh.

"How come you're so pale?" asked the child.

"Because I'm a vampire," joked Shiro. He held up his hands like claws. "See?"

The child's eyes widened, eliciting a chuckle from Shiro. The little guy smiled. "So you suck blood and everything?"

"Yup."

"Wow," said the child. "That's so awesome."

A chuckle came from Shiro's throat; he didn't know it was possible to feel his own eyes brighten in delight. Suddenly Shiro felt the seat next to him shift and squeal. A dog whine followed. He sighed.

"Are you his vampire friend?" asked the child. "Oh! You have a dog! Can I pet him?"

"Actually," came Ichigo's reply, "I'm a werewolf kind of guy. This is my sidekick, Kon. We hunt vampires like this guy here." He smiled, drawing a smile in response from the kid.

Kon barked lowly and hopped out of his bag and onto Shiro's lap to look out the window. The child pet Kon, who licked at the kid's hand and went back to looking out the window. After being pulled back in his seat by his mother, the child protested that he was getting in on the vampire-werewolf world. At this, Ichigo chuckled.

"What are you doing here?" asked Shiro. He rested his hands on Kon, getting the dog to sit down between his legs.

Ichigo pat Kon's head, making the dog's tail wag. "Following death," he replied lowly.

"Death doesn't have a shadow."

"Death isn't alone," added Ichigo.

Shaking his head, Shiro leaned his head against the glass, avoiding the snot and drool Kon left behind. "What do you want?"

"I'm the vampire hunter, remember?" said Ichigo. "So I'll follow you."

"Until you can kill me," stated Shiro. He grinned at the dark empty street. "That'll be the day." At this, the parent and child sitting in front of them moved toward the front of the bus. The men remained as they were.

"You're not very good with face to face talk," commented Ichigo as he looked over at Shiro, whose grin faded in the window reflection. "When did you start hating—"

"—Stop," cut in Shiro. His jaw tightened, and his brow furrowed. He looked over at Ichigo and growled, "Keep your mouth shut!" He was caught in Ichigo's gaze, and he quickly looked away. "Don't read in to anything you know nothing about." He could see that Ichigo's face had slid into a scowl for a moment. The paper bags were off.

The bus jerked, and as it drove off, it hummed.

"I don't plan on killing you," said Ichigo.

At that, Shiro glanced at Ichigo. His heart beat evened out at the change in subject. "What do you mean?"

"As I am," explained Ichigo, "I do my job as sole executor."

"Get to the point."

"I've been alone," continued Ichigo. "I have Kon, but I crave human contact."

"If you want friends," replied Shiro, recognizing the speech, "you're in the wrong business."

"I'm in the business I know best," rebutted Ichigo, "and when I look at you, I see myself."

"Shut up," bit Shiro. His lips pursed as he rubbed at his face.

"I don't want to go alone anymore," confessed Ichigo. "Death is not one but many. I want to continue on with you."

Turning away from Ichigo, Shiro gripped a handful of his hair to keep from jerking and punching the other man; Kon plopped down on Shiro's lap and huffed. "I don't know what you expect from me," he said. "I'm not exactly a friend-type."

Giving a sigh, Ichigo leaned back against his seat. "Neither am I," he agreed with a frown. "I lost so much and gained a little. I know I share your pain. That's why you can't stand to look at me."

"You must be confused," disagreed Shiro. "I don't have pain." He turned to Ichigo, who met his gaze. Fighting the urge to look at Ichigo's nose or past him, Shiro clenched a fist. "I chose this. Everything is within my control when I'm alone. In case you haven't seen it yet, I don't blend in very easily, and I look suspicious to everyone. I need hands on the reigns at all times."

"I also chose this job," said Ichigo. "Everywhere I go, guys want to fight me because of my hair color and my face, and I have a hard time blending in with regular people, too. The only thing that separates us is that I learned to make peace with who I am and the way I look early on."

Growling, Shiro turned away and crossed his arms. His heart was racing, beating against the solid wall of his chest. Although the intensity of his anger was building in his mind, he couldn't help but see how his shoes weren't the only ones of its kind. He wasn't alone. "I work best alone," he excused.

"We'll be more efficient together."

"We'd be an easy spot from anywhere and by anyone."

"No one would put a hit on us."

"You're drawing a fantasy," said Shiro as he turned back to Ichigo. "I work this job because I enjoy being alone."

A smile came to Ichigo's face, and he leaned in, making Shiro's eye twitch. "From the looks of it," analyzed Ichigo, "I don't think you actually like being alone."

"You don't know a thing about me," argued Shiro. "Back off." Suddenly, his frown fell as he felt a hot tear fall down his cheek. Quickly, he wiped the tear away, jostling Kon a bit at his movement.

"I know enough," rebutted Ichigo. "So what do you say?"

Shiro didn't look up. He refused to stop looking down at Kon.

 **IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII**

It had been seven months since they teamed up. Kon didn't bark as much anymore, but he laid himself down by the front window every chance he got. Ichigo had rented out a house for himself and Shiro, who had to cross check buyers with Ichigo. Running in to the buyer who wanted them dead was less than ideal, especially to Shiro. Ichigo had a few jobs, all high paying.

"I remember my dad always used to test me," recalled Ichigo with a smile. He flipped the pancake in his pan. The steel stove shined brightly alongside the neat countertops and matching fridge. Shiro was sitting at the table, sneaking bits of dry pancake to Kon, whose tail wagged at the treats it got. "Even in the morning, he'd try to hit me upside the head. Despite his crappy kicks, he did make a good pancake. He gave my little sister a run for her money. My other sister didn't care much; she only wanted to eat."

Upon hearing the stove flicker off, Shiro looked up from Kon to Ichigo, who took his seat across the table. "That's a good memory," commented Shiro as he picked up his fork. He poured syrup on top before cutting in to the cake.

After swallowing a mouthful of food, Ichigo said, "It's your turn."

Shiro wiped away a drip of syrup from his lips after taking another bite. "I started my job after my mother died," he shared. "I had been training for a long time and doing small jobs for pennies, anything to keep my mom from noticing and getting worked up. My first hit was personal, and I took care of him with my knife. From him, I took only one thing, the sword with a purple edge."

"The man you killed," said Ichigo. "I looked him up after I heard he was taken out. He was the boogeyman before you came along."

Staring at his pancakes, Shiro dug his fork all the way through the stack. "I don't care about labels like that," he admitted. "I don't feel pride in killing him then. It was justice."

"The newspaper said that his daughter saw the whole thing," replied Ichigo. "She couldn't describe you because you were well disguised, but she described your eyes."

Sitting back in his seat, Shiro looked at the way the syrup slipped into the holes he created with is fork. "His daughter…" Shiro rubbed at his head. "If she wishes to come for me, then I welcome her, but I care not about her endeavor to bring justice to her father's death if it exists."

"I see."

"I don't sweat people," Shiro repeated to Ichigo. "Work is work. I've taken more than enough fathers' lives, and I'm sure that more than just that girl want to kill me… I am death. I don't fear it."

Ichigo could only frown, making Shiro feel heat enter his face in such discomfort. That was a first.

When breakfast was finished and both men were washed up, they sat outside together on a bench. Kon was running around the yard and sniffing about, eventually finding a frog to bother. Ichigo placed his hand on top of Shiro's.

Curling his fingers around Ichigo's hand, Shiro felt connected on his side of the cold bench, warm and light in his stomach. Ichigo's thumb rubbed at his skin in a slow rhythm. He remembered when he had caught Ichigo staring at him when he had come home one night, covered in blood and wounds from a multi-hit job. Ichigo had approached him and had taken his things, putting them away in the closet. Before Ichigo had the chance to touch his bloodied cheek, split by a level cut, Shiro had caught his hand, squeezing it when Ichigo had rested his forehead against his. He hadn't known what to call how close he had felt to Ichigo, especially to allow their heads to connect and their eyes to dwell in an endless trance. The moment burned his cheeks.

"I think you should forgive yourself," said Ichigo. "You deserve nothing but love."

"What are you talking about?"

"You can't stand to see yourself out of order in the mirror," explained Ichigo. Kon approached them and laid himself at Shiro's feet. At that, Ichigo smiled briefly. "I see guilt in your eyes and the self-worth in your hands and hair."

"I already shared today," Shiro pointed out. He couldn't take his hand out of Ichigo's.

"I know you don't love yourself, Shiro," stated Ichigo. "I don't want to see you so upset."

"You can't fix me."

"I never said you were broken."

"Where are you going with this?" snapped Shiro. He ripped his hand away and stood up. "Get to the goddamn point."

Rising from his seat, Ichigo looked Shiro in his eyes. "You can let me in," he suggested. "I won't take anything from you."

Aware that Ichigo was referencing his mistake in letting in the hitman as a child, Shiro shook his head. "You hold my hand," he said. "That's quite a lot. You're asking for more, and I don't know if I can." He rubbed at his head. "It's hard. I don't even know if what I feel is real."

Ichigo nodded. "I'll go at your pace then," he said. "You tell me when you're ready to move on."

At Ichigo's new suggestion, Shiro nodded. His sword was going to need a new colored edge.

 **IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII**

Facing Ichigo with his fading grin, Shiro held his bloodied sword. He had a little more to do this time, more than the last job, and it reflected in his now ribbon-like clothing. In his left hand, he held the target's head by its golden hair, a strange request that this buyer made. He flicked his sword and sheathed it, the crisp sound of its descent filling the room.

Ichigo had come along, expressing that the buyer's price was too strange for just one person. His knuckles were wrapped with brass underneath. Other than his hands, Ichigo appeared as he would any day, a regular man just going about his business in town.

Looking at him, calm, blood covered face and glaring brown eyes, Shiro couldn't help his heart jumping and dancing a strange dance along the line of his ribs. Carefully, he stepped over the carcasses that littered the tile floor. The feeling of blood beneath his boots made Shiro's toes curl; it was no different than stepping in a puddle of water to him. The burgundy room and its golden leaf décor made the blood appear as a natural part.

"You're smiling," observed Ichigo.

Briefly touching at his face, Shiro felt his lips curved. "Yeah," he agreed.

"You're happy," inquired Ichigo.

"I think that's what this is," said Shiro. When he met Ichigo on the other side of bodies, he led the way out of the mansion. As they walked, they passed up more bodies and broken glassware. Outside, they passed a box with severed wires. He touched at his chest, where his heart still did its funny dance.

 _This is what happiness feels like._

After putting away the head and sitting down in the car, Shiro sighed and rested his head against the head rest. His entire body molded against the seat, his chest rising and falling with slows breaths. At that moment, he felt Ichigo put his hand on top of his own. With effort, Shiro curled his fingers around Ichigo's hand, the tips of his fingers touching at Ichigo's skin. The scars and imperfections were rough; however, a smile spread on Shiro's lips as he held on tighter.

"Do you want to pick up some food?" asked Ichigo.

"I don't have the energy," answered Shiro. He glanced at Ichigo, who was smiling at him with his brow furrowed in such a way that made him hold his breath.

"Let's go home," said Ichigo. He caressed Shiro's hand with his thumb.

 _Our home_ , thought Shiro as he closed his eyes.

 **IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII**

That night, Kon hopped down from his perch at Ichigo's bed and made his way to Shiro's room. Stirring at the sound of Kon, Ichigo sat up and caught sight of his dog exiting the room. He followed. Unlike Ichigo's room with colors and comfortable carpeting, Shiro's room was bare, containing only blue walls and hardwood flooring. Kon's little paws clicked on the flooring. He jumped on Shiro's bed and laid himself in front of Shiro's chest.

Groaning softly, Shiro reached out and put his arm around Kon. There, Ichigo walked to the edge of Ichigo's bed and smiled down at Shiro's snuggling of Kon. Not wanting to disturb them, Ichigo snuck back toward the door, looking back to smile at them. Suddenly, Shiro started mumbling.

"No," groaned Shiro. "No. Get back here. Put him back!"

Ichigo walked back to his bedside. Kon was pushing his nose against Shiro's cheek. He laid a gentle hand on Shiro's balled fist. More grumbling followed until Ichigo said, "Shiro, you're dreaming."

As his eyes snapped open, tears slid down Shiro's cheeks. "I-Ichigo," he stuttered as more tears fell. His heart was racing as his head burned. His fingers twitched to hit or slice at something. Wiping at his face, Shiro looked up at Ichigo, who had a worried look on his face.

"I'm here," said Ichigo as he slowly sat on the bed. "I'm here. What do you need?"

"Just," started Shiro. He pulled at Ichigo's hand. "Ichigo…" The vague images of the assassin were blurring from his memory as he thought hard to remember what happened. He could only remember the thunderous steps that filled his ears and body. "Ichigo."

"I'm here."

"I saw that bastard again," growled Shiro. "I saw him, and no matter how fast I ran, I couldn't catch him." He gripped a lock of his hair. "I can hear his footsteps."

"He's not here," said Ichigo. "You killed him a long time ago." He touched at Shiro's balled fist and eased the hand away from the white-haired man's head.

"He needs to leave my dreams," stated Shiro as he rubbed at his eyes again. "Fuck."

"I understand."

"I don't know what to do," said Shiro as he sat up. "He should be gone."

"Go back to sleep," replied Ichigo. "I'll stay here until you do." At the other's suggestion, Shiro laid himself down. He felt himself melt in ease as Ichigo carefully laid himself next to him, still holding the other's hand. Kon moved to the foot of the bed, allowing for Shiro to reach out and cuddle with Ichigo. The warmth of Ichigo's body engulfed him, especially when the other wrapped his arms around him.

They laid like that for a while, but Shiro couldn't fall asleep. Instead, he stared at Ichigo's sleeping face. The peace in his brow and the slight parting of his lips, along with the rise of of his chest. He pressed his face to Ichigo's chest, relishing the comfort. He felt whole.

 _This is real?_ Shiro asked himself. _I'm not dreaming, right? This feeling. It's real._ He tugged at his hair with his face still buried in Ichigo's chest. _It is… I don' t know._ He tugged again.

"You're awake," came Ichigo's groggy voice.

"Yeah," said Shiro as he put his arm back around Ichigo. "So are you."

"Can't sleep?"

"I don't… want to."

"Let me get you some water," suggested Ichigo as he sat up. "Maybe it'll help." He started to rise, but Shiro held tighter.

"Don't leave," requested Shiro. He looked up at Ichigo. In the dark, he could see the other's face so clearly. Ichigo's eyes were shining. No scowl, no grimace, nothing. His gaze fell to other's slightly parted lips again. He felt his entire body heat rise; the flame jumpstarted his beating heart. He briefly wondered if it was the dream that caused it. Shiro shook his head.

"Shiro."

"I don't know," said Shiro. "The dream doesn't do this to my chest. It never did."

"What do you mean?" asked Ichigo. "Are you feeling sick?" He touched at Shiro's forehead. "It was that job, wasn't it?"

"No," answered Shiro. He touched at his chest. "It's hot in here, and it feels that way every time I look at you… I've been alone for so long that I don't know what this feeling is. Please, tell me what it is."

At this, Ichigo smiled and explained, "I feel that way when I see you, too." He touched at his chest. "I feel this way because I care about you."

"I don't understand."

"Couples call it _love_ ," said Ichigo.

"So that's what this is," Shiro wondered aloud. He looked in to Ichigo's eyes. "Tell me."

"Are you ready for that?" asked Ichigo.

"I'm not alone anymore," answered Shiro. "Tell me. I want to know that this is all real. That I'm not just dreaming this, too."

Smiling and leaning in toward Shiro's face, Ichigo confessed, "I love you."

"This is what it feels like, then," observed Shiro. He glanced at Ichigo's lips again. "I have to say… I love you."

They locked their confessions between their lips. They'd never be alone again.

 **Writer's Rambles**

 **Hey all,**

 **Here's that One Shot that I've been working on for a while now. I've put a lot of thought in to this piece. Seriously, I had to come back to this story again and again because it kept changing. Well, I hope that you all enjoyed reading it. Let me know what you all think; I enjoy talking to my readers. :)**

 **Thanks again to those who made a visit to _Dragon Guests_. Your support was awesome. **

**Have an awesome day,**

 **W**


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